


Time and Space

by embroiderama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John meets a man who helps him become the hunter he needs to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time and Space

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/profile)[**innie_darling**](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/) for the super-quick and thorough beta! This story was originally written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/profile)[**spn_gleeweek**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/) [anonymous thingy](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/12787.html), so yay for that. To explain how it fits into the firsts chart, this is John's first friend in the hunter community.

_Spring 1984_

John yanked the motel room door open just far enough to stand in the opening and glare at his visitor.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry to keep bothering you, but I have information that you--"

"Look, Father, or whatever it is you want to be called, I've told you not to come here. I'm not going to be in town long. I'm not interested in attending your services, and I'm not in need of your kind of information."

"Please. You've misunderstood, I--"

John slammed the door closed, unwilling to listen to another word. He stood perfectly still behind the door and listened for the priest's departure. Before the man's soft footsteps receded, he heard a small object come to rest against the door, close to the ground.

When he was sure that the other man had left, John opened the door and looked at the package on the ground. Even wrapped in a brown paper bag, the object was clearly a book. "Doesn't that man know motel rooms already have Bibles?"

John shook his head, but he picked up the package anyway and closed the door, re-securing the deadbolt and chain. He sank down onto the nearest bed and felt the mattress dip slightly behind him as Dean climbed up and scooted across the bed to kneel next to him. "Hey, buddy, you want to see what we've got here?"

Dean nodded, and John resisted the urge to sigh at his son's silence.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be very interesting." He unfolded the neatly creased paper flap and reached his hand inside. The binding felt old and cracked under his fingers. He pulled the book out of its bag, and for a moment he could only stare at the cover. Leather. Ancient. Imprinted with some kind of bizarre symbol and a title not in English. "What the hell?"

He stood up abruptly, keeping the book in his hand, and stalked over to the window, pushed the curtain aside just far enough to check the parking lot for the presence of the man who had claimed to be a priest. Nothing. The lot stood quiet and empty of people. John let the curtain drop back down and flipped the book open. Standing by the window, he began studying it in the dreary light of the motel room lamp.

The whole damned thing was in some other language. Latin, maybe. But the pictures--Jesus. Drawings of creatures out of nightmares and horror films. What the hell was this book supposed to be? He paged through the book for a while, staring at the twisted images illustrating the text, frustrated by his inability to read it.

Eventually, he gave up, wrapped the book back up, and turned to his collection of newspapers. He continued his project of combing through them, looking for patterns, paying special attention to the weather reports, the obituaries, the crime reports. He kept an eye on Dean and Sammy. Cartoons played quietly on the TV, but half the time Dean seemed to have all his attention on Sammy, crawling around on the floor with the baby, whispering to him so quietly that John couldn't hear his voice. He rarely heard Dean's voice these days.

When his head began to ache from the small print and the numbing details, he folded the pages back into order and took his boys down the road for dinner. As they left the room and again when they returned from the diner, he examined the parking lot for any signs of the stranger with the priest's collar, but the man seemed to be staying away.

John knew he would return, and likely sooner than later. He'd left the book to arouse John's interest, and he had accomplished that. The man's intentions, and how much of a danger he might be, remained as much of a mystery as the text in the old book. John knew that his safest option might be to bundle the kids in the car and take off, but his curiosity about the man and his book wouldn't let him leave.

He didn't sleep that night. He sat on the bed, with his boys tucked in next to him, while images from the old book rose up in his mind, twisting through fire and screams and the words of Missouri Moseley as she told him about things unseen. He kept one hand on the boys, resting lightly on Dean's small shoulder or Sammy's tiny head, reassuring himself with their warmth and their peaceful rest.

In the morning, he dressed the boys and then fed them breakfast and drank bitter coffee from the room's small pot while he waited for the visitor he knew would arrive. When he heard footsteps approaching the door, he stuck his room key in his pocket. "Deano, I need you to watch your brother for a few minutes, okay?"

Dean nodded, just as the man's knock sounded on the door. John pulled the door open and stepped out, yanking it shut behind him. "What are you?"

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" The man looked slightly uncomfortable at John's sudden presence in his face, but he didn't step back.

"You come here wearing that collar, and you bring me that--that book," John growled. "What. Are. You?"

"I apologize if the book was startling, but I had to get you to speak to me. My name is Jim Murphy, and I have a parish in Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"That's what? Four or five hours from here? You're reaching out a little far for new members."

"John, I seek what you seek."

John blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"The thing you hunt, I've been tracking it for years. I see a pattern, but I don't know yet why it kills or where it will kill next. If you've tracked it back this far-- John, what you've done in six months is astounding. With more information, more training, I believe you would have a chance of stopping this. Maybe stopping many other things as well."

"What do you know about it? Tell me!" John felt the urge to grab the man by the arms and shake him, but he restrained himself.

"Please, can we go somewhere more private to discuss this?"

Something deep inside John told him to trust this man, to let him inside his quest. He thought about the information the man promised to share, about the priceless book that sat inside his cheap motel room. He peered into the man's eyes, searching for any hint of danger or prevarication, but all he saw was earnestness backed up with more kindness than John had seen in months. He nodded.

Opening the door to the room, he nodded at Dean, who sat on the far bed holding Sammy on his lap, and then motioned the man into the room.

Murphy smiled over at the boys, appearing unsurprised to find two small children traveling with John, and looked around the room. "John, what are you doing in this town right now?"

"It was here. I need to find out where it came from, track it to where it is now."

"Yes. That will take time, though, and there's so much you need to learn."

"So, tell me. Give me a book that's in English. Stop beating around the bush for God's sake."

"I'd like to offer you something. You and your boys."

"My boys have nothing to do with this." John took a few steps to stand between Murphy and his children.

"I have a house, provided by the church--"

"Well, good for you."

"There are several empty rooms. You need to study, to learn. I can offer you the time and space to do that."

"We don't need your charity," John ground out.

"Oh, it's not charity, not at all. We, those of us who study the darkness, those who hunt it, we need you. We need you strong and armed with the knowledge that others have bled for."

"You would help me find the--the thing that--" He broke off, looked behind himself at the boys, and then continued in a harsh whisper, "killed my wife."

"Yes. I can't guarantee you that it will be killed in either of our lifetimes, but we can help you prepare to hunt it."

John nodded. "I need to think about this."

"Of course. I'll be driving back to Blue Earth tomorrow morning. May I visit you again on my way out of town? To see if you've made a decision?"

"Yeah, I suppose that would be okay."

"I hope you'll consider my offer."

John opened the door and watched the man leave. When he'd driven off, John closed the door and went over to take Sammy from Dean's arms. "I think we should get out of this room for a while, go find a park or something. Sound like a plan?"

Dean smiled and nodded, his whole body bouncing up and down with the movement. John grabbed his wallet and car keys and then reached out to take Dean's hand, still carrying Sammy in his other arm.

Later on, in the park, as John hoisted Dean up onto the sliding board for another go, Dean turned to him and said, "Thanks, Daddy."

John felt a broad, unfamiliar smile break across his face and tears prickling in his eyes. "You're welcome, buddy." He picked Sammy back up and met Dean at the base of the sliding board. The boys looked happy right now, and it made John realize that it was a rare sight. He couldn't imagine that he'd ever be happy again, without Mary, but the boys still had it within them feel something other than the grief and the anger that burned through John from the inside, that threatened to destroy even the overwhelming urge to protect his boys.

The priest had offered time and space and knowledge to help his hunt. He thought about how much time they'd spent in the car and in motel rooms during the last few months since they left Mike and Kate's. How much time he'd spent struggling to understand this new battle he found himself fighting. This was no way for the boys to live and no way to fight a war, either. Alone, blind.

Time to get back to the room and pack. They'd have to be ready to leave for Minnesota in the morning.


End file.
